


Blow Up

by Entwife_Incognito



Category: The Mentalist
Genre: Bad Weather, Communication, F/M, Friendship/Love, Misunderstandings, Romance, Screaming, Tornado, Weather matches mood/action, smutty smut smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 03:33:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8605696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Entwife_Incognito/pseuds/Entwife_Incognito
Summary: Lisbon wanted to ask Jane what he thought about her moving to D.C. As calm and accepting of her relationship with Pike as he seemed, she meant to ask the objective opinion of a friend. Her unconscious wanted to know if he would truly let her go? One-shot.Disclaimer: The Mentalist? Don't own it.Originally posted at FFnet on April 22, 2014. Now here with refining edits to improve readability.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to tealfeatherlove on Tumblr for suggesting a story where Jane loses control.

The sky seemed very strange as she drove home from work. Gray and clotted, a bunched line where massive and building clouds stopped and the sky lay open with a glowering muddy, look. The dimmed light cast greenish shadows on everything, like looking through tinted sunglasses that blocked too much light. The air felt heavy and sticky even though the wind blew steadily toward the bank of boiling clouds that sucked it in. There was no rain, but a rumbling in the distance. Thunderclouds, obviously, but the strangest ones she had ever seen. Was this a Texas thing? They seemed . . . looming. They went on forever above, but the bottoms were flat as a tabletop.  


Almost throwing her things in place, Lisbon turned on the television for the weather. Tornado watch? What the hell?  


There was a knock at the door. Jane. She had asked him to come over. She needed someone to talk to about this move to D.C. He knew her better than anyone. And he seemed calm about Marcus and her. He could provide an objective view of the choices before her. She let him in and motioned to the kitchen where he would know to fix himself some tea. Watching him in her kitchen, she realized he had never actually been over to her apartment. How could that be? She must be remembering wrong.  


Obviously, he didn't know her habits anymore. Jane's check of two likely cabinets did not reveal the tea stash she kept for him. It had been so long . . . maybe she didn't stock tea for him anymore. Dismay caught him before he could hide it. "Okay, Lisbon, I give up. Where is the tea?"  


When she turned to answer, the look on his face struck her through like a sword. He seemed about to cry. Reddening, she looked away. "Cabinet over the fridge." Because no one at her house used tea. Jesus! She tried to face him, but he was already looking down, nodding. He pivoted away to get a chair to stand on in order to reach the tea. This was not going well, and they'd hardly exchanged a word.  


"I'm sorry, Jane." He looked at her then. "The tea . . . I haven't had you over. I'm sorry."  


Shrugging his shoulders, he grabbed the three varieties of tea from the cupboard and climbed down. "Tea doesn't matter, Lisbon." He shook his head a little as he set the boxes on the counter and stared at them. "Not at all." He didn't want to look at her. His heart was thumping in his chest, but felt like it had fallen, a lead ball, to his knees.  


"I mean . . . you haven't been here. I put the tea out of the way."  


_Just like you did me._ Jane gave her a sharp look.  


Lisbon almost murmured, "You know . . . I drink coffee."  


"Pike is a coffee drinker too, I take it."  


Cheeks hot, she looked up, but not into his eyes. "Yes."  


"Are you sure I should be here? What's he going to think when he sees the tea things and knows I was here?" He paused before saying somberly, "I suppose you'll put them out of the way again." The kettle whistled and he distracted himself with the soothing rituals of tea-making.  


"I needed to talk to you, not Marcus. I, I need an . . . objective opinion." Why did that sound cold?  


"Oh?"  


"Yes. Fix your tea and come sit on the couch."  


"You don't want a coffee?"  


Lisbon sat in the armchair. "No, thank you."  


In a few moments Jane walked into the living room with a cup and saucer. Still caught on 'objective,' he trembled, and the china rattled quietly in his hand. He set it on the coffee table with something of a clatter and then picked up the cup to take several sips to hide his anxiety.  


The discomfort in the room was high. She'd made a mistake to ask him over to talk about this. Glaringly, things were not as clear between them as she had thought.  


"What did you want to talk to me about, Lisbon?"  


She couldn't go through with this. It would hurt him; she knew that, now. "I, I don't think it's such a good idea now."  


Taking another long sip of tea and, feeling its calm, Jane set the cup down. "Nonsense. You can talk to me about anything. You wanted to talk. Talk." He really didn't know what to expect, but he sensed now that it must have something to do with Pike. His stomach flipped and the tea churned inside. No. Lisbon wouldn't be so cruel. He couldn't have hidden his struggle that well. Jane reflected on the comfort of being with Lisbon in her home, scanning the room and the furnishings as he waited for her to make a start.  


Lisbon hesitated, deep in thought. Well, he had to know sometime. She would keep Marcus out of it as much as she could, play that part down. She knew it wouldn't work before she opened her mouth.  


"Come on. Out with it." Comforting, too, this hesitation of Lisbon to talk. Maybe she wasn't so sure of Pike . . . Then, she sucker-punched him. Right in the gut. Paralyzed his solar plexus. How could words do that?  


Lisbon took a deep breath, and blurted, "How would you feel if I moved to D.C.?"  


She didn't say it, so Jane finished for her, too loud and high, definitely in screech territory. "With Pike?" He could hardly breathe, his chest imploding with panic. His mouth gaped, his eyes were round and rimmed in white. Skin suddenly clammy, his belly went cold as a block of ice and, when he could not suppress the urge to vomit, he ran out of her living room, bent and clutching his retching stomach. He barely made it to the toilet, flipping the lid up loudly and slamming the door before he emptied the remains of his lunch and several rounds of sour bile into the bowl along with his tea.  


Lisbon was near panic. This was a disaster! Jane had been so cool about Marcus and her, saying he was glad Pike was taking her somewhere nice, that he seemed like a good guy, calmly wishing her good night when he happened to catch her leaving for a date. Truthfully, it hurt her to leave him like that, but she couldn't take seriously anything he said, he was so full of lies and tricks.  


Little memories floated up. Jane complimenting her hat, saying she was beautiful—twice now—giving her those revealing dresses to wear on the art sting. His touch in that role had been so powerful and confident, even quietly possessive. Saying he was happy just because he was sitting on a bench with her. She had thought it was just Jane bullshit. Even all his being nice about Marcus. She had known all along there was an edge to it, but didn't want to deal with it since it wouldn't change anything. _Or, so I thought._. Saying Marcus was a nice guy, and then that she needed a good man. He meant himself!  


Lisbon dropped her head and rubbed her brow with her hand. Damn. That whole set up for the sting, every bit of it was by his design and revolved totally around being with her, almost trying to play house. And she had felt so close to him for a few moments as she covered him, sleeping on the couch. She'd wanted to wake him, crawl into his arms and kiss him. _I should have._ But since their talk on the plane, he hadn't acted like he had any romantic interest in her at all.  


Apparently, it was a front, a game. She had played the same game with him, but suddenly Marcus had made breaking away seem real. Wanting Jane. But he never gave a sign he was ready to move on. Much less with her. She thought of his hand now. For Christ's sake, he still wore his ring. What was she supposed to think? What was she supposed to do? Confess her undying love and have him make some excuse to walk off without giving an answer? Then she would be in real hell. And it was hell enough already.  


What was keeping him in the bathroom? Had he passed out? He'd gone pale and looked clammy with cold sweat. It was clear from the sounds from the bathroom that he'd been sick. "Jane!"  


Feeling weak, Jane knew he had to come out of the bathroom. Lisbon had started calling to him and asking if he was all right. _Fuck no, I'm not all right._ But he didn't want her to come knocking at the door and have to slouch past her in ignominy and defeat.  


"I'm all right. I'll be out in a minute."  


"I'll make you some more tea," she hollered.  


"No! I don't want tea!"  


Probably the most baffling thing Lisbon had ever heard Jane say in the almost thirteen years she'd known him. Something was definitely very wrong.  


Jane's anger built on the thoughts in his head. Lisbon, move away, with Pike? So far away from him forever! He had to tell her, take a chance that she would throw him out on his ass. But he couldn't get good control of himself. Too bad, PJ. Your number is up. Right now. Finally, he opened the door and came striding out, angry. "How could you? How could you? You've been hurting me and I've been taking it, patient, waiting for you to be ready, for my nightmare to be over. But now you ask me how I feel about you moving across the country with another man? I feel like hell! I feel like shit! That's what I feel. I feel like I'm drowning and calling for you and you don't even see me! Don't you see me?"  


Lisbon was surprised by his display of temper and pain. "What do you mean, see you? I see you every day."  


Jane let out an ear-splitting scream that sailed until he ran out of breath and bent over, emptying the last in his lungs with a keening, breathless wail while his face turned crimson and purple. He filled his lungs in a gale and then screamed again, his arms held rigidly against his ribs, fingers out and flexing as if to force even the subsonic parts of the scream from his body. Finally he stopped to let the bellows of his diaphragm start pumping air, breath after gasping breath, keeping his head low so that he would not faint.  


Jane shocked himself with the utter loss of control. He hadn't been able to contain it any longer. Probably scared Lisbon senseless. His mind was too fuzzy, exhausted. What was going on? That wailing sound. Was he still screaming? There was no vibration in his chest or throat. It seemed to fade as he straightened up. Now his overheating nauseated him. Almost tearing his suit coat from his body, he flung it towards the couch and missed, then panted as air hit the wet places on his shirt and began to cool him.  


Lisbon gaped at his half-soaked shirt, armpits, heaving chest and back actually glistening with sweat bled to the surface, his shirttails worked loose except for a bit of hem in the front. Jesus! Between the hot and cold, the physical exertion and the massive load that kind of emotion put on his system, he would give himself a heart attack. Lisbon stared at him in dismay. What had she missed? She had never seen Jane lose control like this. And obviously because of her relationship with Marcus.  


This wasn't lies and tricks. Jane's desperate frustration made Lisbon ache to comfort him. This was pain of a kind she had only seen in her father, boiling out like poison. What had she done? He was her friend and he was right. She hadn't seen him. And he'd been trying to get her attention, desperately, as he drowned, the only way he felt he could without driving her away. He loved her. And while pretending, wishing herself into the arms of another man, she loved Jane. Only him. The rest was escape. If only Jane had told her!  


A loud wail sounded outside, making them both jump. A siren, but not a puny police siren. What the hell? All Lisbon could think of were air raid sirens from old movies and TV programs. It filled her apartment and soon seemed to roll by, sounding more and more distant before it made the next round. Her eyes caught the weather map on the TV screen. Bands of red and purple-- and a black roundish clot in the middle. The weatherman touched his map and little white rays made a trajectory from the black spot. A table of towns and times appeared near the rays. West Austin was in its path, scheduled to arrive in fifteen minutes.  


"Jane! Tornado!"  


After the initial startle, the storm siren had faded from Jane's exhausted mind. "I don't feel too good, Lisbon." He rubbed his belly and tongued his dry lips. "I need some tea."  


"No! A tornado is coming! That's real bad. Like Wizard of Oz, right?"  


"Where?"  


She pointed to the screen and waited while he read.  


"Oh, that. We've got fifteen minutes. I'll just heat a little water and it'll be Bob's your uncle before you know it."  


"Now, Jane. We have to find shelter in here somewhere."  


Jane pointed to the small door under the stairs. "That's the safest place." Picking up his cup and saucer, he headed to the kitchen.  


Lisbon ran to open the door. She'd never paid any attention to it before and the crawl space was empty, thank god. She heard Jane rattling the tea things in the kitchen. The view through the window was terrifying, the blackest bank of clouds she had ever seen, glowering over the landscape and creating a murky twilight that fogged the distance from view. The TV now showed film of a strange cloud, flat on the bottom like she'd seen outside but with massive round bands of the cloud dropping down, rotating in opposite directions like nested gears. That looked dangerous!  


"Get in here now, Jane! There's no time to be rattling cups and saucers of hot tea around. You're not thinking clearly! You're still in emotional shock. Now, come on!"  


He didn't move. Desperate to get them both to shelter, Lisbon ran to the kitchen, got a bottle of unsweet tea from the fridge and jerked open a drawer to pull out a large wooden spoon with a hole in the cupped part. She smacked Jane on the butt with the slotted end, hard, to make it sting. He jumped and held the cheek, turning around.  


"Lisbon! What the hell?"  


She held up the bottle. "Here's your tea. Now get in this crawl space with me. Now! Raising the spoon high, Lisbon showed she intended to put real power in her next swing.  


"Fine!" He cut the gas under the kettle and went ahead of her. Glancing at the weird cloud on the television, he said, "Uh-oh. A wall cloud. And it looks like it's getting ready to drop a tornado."  


"What?"  


"Yeah. See those round bands of rotating cloud dropping down? Once the spin builds up critical speed, the low pressure below will draw it down into a funnel cloud. Et, voila! A tornado. If it touches the ground."  


Lisbon gaped at the cloud and tried to process Jane's explanation of it. This was insane! "Get under the stairs. Now!  


Jane eyed the spoon in her hand and turned toward the stairs. "Oh! The cupboard under the stairs. I wonder if there's spiders. My head hurts, Lisbon. And my ears are popping. You'd better get in here. That low pressure means the tornado is really close."  


Eyes rolling, Lisbon nearly spat at the irony of Jane telling her to hurry into their shelter, but at least she had got him in there. He wasn't thinking straight. She'd have to remember that wooden spoon. Would have been nice to have one at CBI. Maybe she could find a bigger one. They crept into the crawl space.  


The lightning strobed the sky, the thunder deafening and nearly constant. Lisbon had been in bad storms before, especially in the mountains, but nothing like this sweltering strange mud-green monster. Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud popping sound in the distance. She cocked her head, curious. It was deathly silent. No rain. No wind. The storm was over! Thank god. She moved to a crouch to go out the little door.  


"Don't do that! Stay in here til it's over."  


"But it stopped."  


"No. That's what it does before the real storm hits. That loud 'pop' was a transformer blowing out."  


"Transformer?"  


"Those big containers on electric poles."  


Something began pinging and pelting the apartment roof, hitting the pavement and cars outside. The cacophony grew until it was a deafening downpour, pounding, like someone throwing thousands of baseballs on the roof all at once.  


"Hail. Big ones." Jane shifted to make more room for her in the closet. He smiled encouragingly and nodded toward her hand.  


Lisbon still held the bottle of tea. "Oh." She felt a little stunned and dingy. Opening the cap, Lisbon handed him the tea with a shaking hand. "Here. Drink this. You're dehydrated." She watched him take several big gulps, swish the last one in his mouth and gasp for air.  


Then he capped the bottle, set it to his side and took her hand, squeezing it gently. "It's going to be all right."  


"You've been through this before?"  


"Many times. On the carny circuit. Summertime is full of them in Tornado Alley."  


"Tornado Alley? Is that where we are?"  


Jane's hand was comforting on hers and she felt drawn to move closer to his body. She scooted closer, and then needed something to pass the time without thinking how they were snuggled together in the stormy darkness of their little shelter.  


Lisbon really needed to ask him about his outburst. His reaction to her relationship with Pike was far from what he had led her to believe. Now she recognized the creepy feeling she'd had many times when he'd wished her an amiable good night. Something off about his voice and eyes. She now saw them as sad, even desolate. Why had he covered up to her? It was so unlike him not to meddle mercilessly. He was right. She had refused to see him. Why? Because it made everything easier, just to go along with his acting.  


She shifted her weight to the other hip and cleared her throat in preparation to speak.  


Jane turned his head toward her.  


"What was that out there? What happened to you? You could have given yourself a heart attack or a stroke. First you're clammy. Then you're vomiting. Then you're screaming. Then you're steaming hot and soaking sweat through your clothes. And finally you put the kettle on and go rattling teacups when a wrath of god storm is coming to the front yard and you act like company's coming and will probably be fashionably late."  


"These are my minor sins, Lisbon," he said sulkily.  


Lisbon barked a laugh and then her voice softened. "They're not sins, Jane. You scared me. You weren't thinking straight."  


"I know."  


"So, what happened?"  


"I've already explained it. There's nothing more I can say."  


"You don't want me to be with Marcus. For him to "have" me. He doesn't have me, Jane. We barely know one another."  


Voice high and loud, Jane burst out, tense, but at least not screaming. "Yes! You don't know him but you're thinking of moving to D.C. with him? Now who's not thinking straight?"  


Lisbon sighed. "I've been very lonely and confused, Jane. I want something more. I want love in my life, to belong with somebody who loves me. I had to move on. You weren't. I couldn't wait any longer. Marcus—"  


"No! I don't want him to have you. I want you! I love you! I've been trying to show you!"  


Lisbon's heart opened to this new Jane, his own heart si clearly stripped down and exposed for her. "Have you thought about using your words, Jane? Or, if you couldn't speak about it, maybe removing your ring as a sign you were ready?" _Well, it has to be brought up sometime . . ._  


"Words?" He pulled away from her and dropped her hand. The hail was starting to slow.  


She could feel the heat start to radiate from his body. Obviously, he did not take her feeble attempt at a joke lightly.  


"Damn it, Lisbon! You ask me to come over because you want to talk to me and what you ask is about going away with Pike? What did you expect? My seal of approval? And what the hell do you need it for? It was cruel, Lisbon, just cruel! My whole life crushed like a soda bottle in a vacuum!"  


"I saw, Jane. I saw." Her voice tried to soothe the hurt boy he seemed to be. "I didn't mean it. I didn't know. You never showed or . . . or said. I didn't think you cared. I thought you wanted the best for me!"  


"No!" he shouted, the sound filling up the small space. "Yes, I wanted the best for you. I'm the best for you. I am, Lisbon. I'm the man you need, but you won't even look at me, won't even give me a chance."  


Lisbon felt the anger rise in her belly. "You didn't ask for a chance, Jane. You were all sweet and 'I hope you're happy and Pike's a good man—"  


"I didn't say that! I said he seemed like a good guy and what you deserve is a good man. I meant me, Lisbon. Me."  


"And I'm supposed to read code now, Jane?" _He really is the most exasperating man on the planet!_  


"Yes! You know me. Nobody else like you do. You told me you wanted to make your own decisions and that I shouldn't interfere or you'd leave me. And I've done everything to let you. You looked right past me and found another man! And I couldn't speak or interfere. I'm not a good man. I know it. But I'm your man. Always. Your happiness is first. Nothing else. And now you tell me you're leaving me anyway?"  


Lisbon thought what Jane didn't say. _It isn't fair._

Bellowing and thrashing, he moved apart from her and slid forward on his butt, launching his feet like rockets into the underside of the steps, bang after bang until his toes started to hurt and the long muscles in his legs screamed for him to stop. He was louder than hail! He cursed and yelled, sat up and started pounding the inverted steps with his fists, too. "How could you? How could you?" He bent his head to his knees and covered the back of his head with both hands, his voice mournful. "How could you trap me like that?"  


"Me? Trap you? Since when is that even possible? You trapped yourself! You lie and manipulate me constantly. I expect that from you. Now I'm supposed to read code or, or know . . . magically . . . that you've turned over a new leaf? I just thought it was new bullshit!"  


"Not when you make me know you intend to leave me over it. I can't survive. I can't live without you, Lisbon. It will kill me, but I have to let you go. I have to give you permission to abandon me. Do what you think is best for you. Follow your heart. Go with Pike if that's what makes you happy. But at least let me know that you see me now. That you hear me."  


Lisbon absorbed the totality, the truth, of the man in front of her. His thinking was jumbled and primitive and hard to follow, his behavior overwhelmed and out of control, like any real emotional storm. Lisbon touched his arm. "Jane. I see you. I hear you. You're my best friend in the world."  


Jane dropped his hands from his head but didn't lift it, nodding forlornly and fiddling with his shoes. His hair coiled in the humidity. "Best friend . . . "  


"I mean at least that. That's what you've been to me for years. How could I know what to think? Your revenge quest? Your disappearance? Your, your coolness toward me?"  


Jane turned his head quickly, his bottom lip jutting out as he looked at her. "My letters," he said pointedly.  


"Your ring?" Lisbon added, with emphasis. "You still wear it. When you didn't speak for me, I assumed that you weren't ready to move on, even now, years after Red John. Maybe it even meant you . . . you didn't want me. I couldn't spend my life that way anymore. I had to look for something else."  


_Some one!_ "You wanted me to speak for you?"  


"Yes, you idiot. Why haven't you?"  


"I thought you deserved better."  


"Then what's all that about you being the man I need, the good man I deserve?"  


"I changed my mind. I couldn't lose you. I do want to be the good man you deserve, Teresa. I'll do anything. Anything to make you happy, make you feel safe, and make you believe in me, trust me. Anything."  


Suddenly it was almost pitch dark and a low growling sound started in the distance.  


"Shut the door! Now, Lisbon! Then get back in this corner with me!"  


Crouching, she moved behind him and he scooted back against the wall, watching her. Lisbon pulled the door to with a loud snap, then scuttled inside and nearly leapt over his legs to wedge herself into the far corner. Jane turned so that his back faced the door, his body the last barrier to protect Lisbon if the storm breeched the house.  


"Lisbon."  


She looked at him, shaking, her eyes glinting in the failing ambient light, wide with terror.  


"The tornado is coming. That roar like a train? That's it and it's getting louder and closer. But we're going to be all right, okay? Don't worry. It will be loud and scary, but it will be over fast."  


The rampaging train was on them.  


Lisbon screamed as the air pressure plummeted and their cocoon rumbled and vibrated with the deafening roar and indescribable shaking, dust rattled loose and floating everywhere, the little door jabbering on its hinges like something possessed. She jumped into Jane's lap, straddling him, and buried her face in his chest, clinging tightly to his ribs and back.  


"Hold me, Patrick! I don't want to die! I can't die without telling you I love you, too. I love you. I love you. Please, God, don't let the tornado take him away from me now. If you have to die, I want to die, too. I can't live without you. I need you!"  


Her face was buried in his armpit as he wrapped his arms around her, pressing her tightly to his body. She could smell the sweat of all the emotion that had come out of him in the last hour. It was the best reek she had ever smelled, intoxicating, all hot male! It was him! It was her Jane. She was safe with him. He would always save her, do anything to save her, even lay down his own life, just as she would for him. She wrapped her legs tighter and dug her heels into his backside, saying his name over and over, "Patrick. Patrick." rocking them both. At the height of the noise she was screaming it, sobbing it, "Patrick!"  


"I've got you, Teresa. I've got you, my love. Don't worry. I'm right here with you. I love you. We won't leave each other. I know we won't. You love me, too. We belong together and we're going to stay together. Forever."  


The noise and the shaking began to fade, the pair of them overheated and soaked with fear sweat, sweltering in the dust-laden airless room.  


"It's over now, Teresa, "It's passed. Everything is okay. Let's get out of here." He moved to open the door.  


She gripped him tighter. "No! Don't let me go yet." They were dripping wet where their bodies had been clinging to each other.  


"Okay . . . let me just lean over and open the door so we can get some air." Leaning, he held her tight with one arm and reached the other to the latch, opening it with his fingers and pushing the door. It wasn't cool air, but it was air. And dim light was filling the living room. The cloud was moving past them and night was approaching. They could assess the damage later when Teresa could move.  


Before he could get himself upright, as soon as his face turned towards her, Lisbon was kissing him. Soft, pliant, questioning kisses on his throat and chin, his jaw. When he lowered his face to her, he was ready, softly nibbling her lips. Her flesh was wonderful, soft and so juicy underneath! She stuck her little tongue between his lips, drawing them toward her mouth to suck and fondle with gentle teeth.  


His temperature soared again with his heartbeat, passion now mingling with the water that ran between their bodies as she rubbed her breasts all over his chest. His cock rose in the swamp of his clothing.  


"I want to make love to you, Patrick. I'm aching. I want you in me now."  


"Here? In here? Not the bed?"  


"Maybe there isn't a bed anymore. Maybe it blew away. I don't want to check. I want you here. Right now. Please." She began to kiss him like she was searching for his soul. He wanted her to find it.  


"Lisbon." Large hands wrapping her ribs, Jane pushed them a little apart. "Lisbon, I need to get my clothes down. I'm really uncomfortable."  


She nodded, eagerly, he was surprised to see. As he undid his trousers and scooted everything off his hips, she opened her blouse and removed her bra in some wriggling mysterious way he didn't quite catch.  


He stopped her gently as she reached for him again, and looked at her, a tender smile on his lips. Then he removed his ring and hung it on a protruding nail. "There. Nothing between us."  


As they kissed, Jane's hands found her breasts, resting their weight in his palms, rubbing his thumbs lightly over the rising nipples and his fingers along their sides, making her cry out and press her hips to him. "You feel so wonderful in my hands, Teresa."  


Looking into his eyes, she reached down and took hold of him, then looked at his swelling male flesh. "Oh! I love it! I want it inside me. Now!" His strong, sweaty scent excited her.  


As Jane began to unbutton her pants, he teased, "I think you're a little overdressed. But we can fix that." Then he slid her pants and underwear down her hips, caressing their fine shape as she toed off her shoes. When she was done, he gave his eyes the gift of time to look at her legs and belly, the dark patch of hair on her mons. She began to wriggle her legs, opening them and moving towards him.  


When she straddled him again, she pressed her open vulva against his standing cock, rubbing and sighing. He felt dizzy, her wet hot flesh kissing his. He pushed his erection towards her so that his now thrumming flesh would be stable for her to slide against. She leaned back, hands on the floor. It freed her hips to roll languidly, cradling him in hot squish as she moved until they both moaned. He wanted to watch her breasts, bouncing in his peripheral vision, but he couldn't take his eyes off what she was doing to him down below. Pulling her up, Jane kissed her deeply, exploring her mouth, then held her tight and laid her gently on the floor. He picked up her sharp, musky scent, mingled with his own. His pants were below his knees and that's as far as he would take them. Teresa was underneath him, her legs open, pulling on his back to come to her. He didn't make her wait, but he moved at an agonizingly slow pace. He used the plump head of his dick to toy with her entrance, then tease her as he drew it in and out, barely penetrating her.  


Lisbon's excitement grew and when he finally pushed all the way into her, she growled in the feminine and wrapped her legs around his waist, undulating her hips as he stayed in position to receive what she was giving him, telling him what she wanted. He needed her to come because he was melting into the depths of her, perhaps never to return with his mind intact.  


Changing position without losing their connection, he eased her legs down, bowed his back and located her clit popping in and out of hiding as he stroked slowly in and out. Then he put two fingers on it and started to rub. She opened her legs more and rode it against his fingers, moaning. He drove into her then, hard, for as long as he could while supporting his weight on one arm and making love to her clit with the other hand. Pausing briefly, he took her hand and brought it between her legs.  


"Are you ready? Because I am. But I need both my arms to drive my weight into you. Do whatever makes you want to come. I'll be right there with you."  


"Oh, hurry! I can't wait long." Her fingers were busy with the nub of flesh and her hips started to buck.  


Jane's head swam at the eroticism of what she was doing with him, in front of him, for herself. Where tears had trailed her cheeks were tracks of salt through sweat, oils and settled dust. Her naked breasts and belly were streaked with lines of the same dust, washed like ripples of sand in the tides of their sweaty bodies when she had gripped him with every limb in terror. She was gorgeous, innocent and unmindful in her desire for him. He was sure he looked the same, knew they smelled the same. Dirty love, their first time. His mind quieted as the rest of him took over, his body free. He drove into her, feeling every inch, every ridge and ripple calling him back inside. Soon her muscles were gripping him, trying to hold him. He could feel her fingers working when he met her body and it made him mad with lust.  


"More!" she cried. "Harder! Oh please, like that! It's perfect." Her voice lowered to a whisper as she continued to urge him on.  


He could feel she was about to come and started spiraling into her. Taking her hand away, her hips loose and free, Teresa matched his pace, her core molten, her movements fluid, like waves, like the current of the warmest ocean. He buried himself in her as her muscles closed on him and she came with a shout torn from her throat when the orgasm slammed her, holding his arms to steady the spasms that took control, groans breathy and high, cascading from her throat in a rhythm driven by her beautiful body. She opened her eyes in the midst of them to see Patrick looking at her in wonder.  


"I love you, Teresa."  


Smiling her pleasure at his words, she watched as his climax grabbed him. His eyes dilated under the storm of bouncing heat-wound curls right before he closed his eyes and went rigid, hips jerking as he shot round after round of liquid heat deep inside her. He groaned loudly, her name on his lips, then lay on her helplessly, burying his face against her neck, the sounds in his throat a reaction to each pulse as his cock emptied into its warm nest.  


After they'd recovered and redressed, they left their shelter-turned-love-nest.  


"Let's go out and see if you have an apartment left."  


A cursory inspection revealed no broken windows and no water apparent on the ceilings. There was bound to be roof damage, so Jane made a quick call to get on the list of a prominent roofing company while Lisbon stared at the television.  


The weatherman showed a street map of the cloud's path. Since it had never actually touched down, merely roared and spun as it hung below its wall, it was officially a mere funnel cloud. Lisbon's experience was no less terrifying for that. She had been deafened by the unimaginable wind that issued death threats through the cloud's spinning gargantuan maw as it passed over them. She and Jane had found each other in the midst of that roaring storm. From then on, tornado warnings brought secret smiles and blushing cheeks as they traded memories with their eyes. For a long time afterwards, they made love, especially fine and tender love, when they had to hide in the cupboard under the stairs where Jane's old wedding ring still hung on the nail.


End file.
